Children of Middle Earth
by PsychoPoet
Summary: The fellowship is reunited... sort of. Rating changed for Chapter 5 scenes. Please tell me what you think- it gets me through therapy.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's works, though I wish I did own a certain elf. *Grins evilly* That being said, please do not a.) sue me b.) kill me c.) throw helpless vegetables at me. Thanks. Now, on with the freak- fest!!!  
  
A rustle and a thumping sound roused the young archer from her dreamlike state in the arms of the great oak. She leaned over, peering down through the branches. Her eyes were like those of an eagle or hawk. And, though it betrayed her this time, her hearing was keener than any other being in Middle Earth.  
With as much speed and agility as a large cat, she lept down from her hiding place. After giving the tree one final caress, she crept toward the noise, an arrow fitted in her light but strong bow.  
Melime could hear a gruff voice muttering to itself and more rustling and thudding noises. The voice was not orcish as she had feared, but spoke in an annoyed common tongue. The creature- whatever it was- was breathing so loud that Melime wondered how it could have possibly got past her before. Why, she could have shot the beastly thing in the dark!  
She waited for the right moment, then pushed through the brush and aimed at her victim. What she found surprised her more than words could tell.  
A stumpy Dwarf stood before her, his arms shot up in the air as though he was being held up by a robber. "Don't shoot!" he cried, staring terrified at the point of her arrow that hovered just barely an inch in front of his nose.  
Melime laughed and lowered her weapon. "Come now, Master Dwarf. You've no reason to fear me, for your kind are welcome here." With that, she swept the hood of her billowing cloak back.  
  
Clulyan gasped. He stared up at the enchanting young woman. The first thing that he noticed besides the radiant light that seemed to be all around her were her ears. He marvelled at her beauty. Soft pale skin, luscious pink lips, and brilliantly blue eyes. Her dark hair streamed behind her, plaited back like the males of her race. She dressed in the manner of a warrior Elf, but still managed to look wonderfully feminine.  
"You... an Elf... where-?" Clulyan stuttered. He was once again blessed by the melody of her laughter. "You are in the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, my dear Dwarf." My dear Dwarf? Clulyan blushed and was thankful that she could not see the beet red flush of his cheeks because of his beard. Indeed, just to be looked upon by a creature so beautiful as she was enough to make him want to hide his ugliness in shame.  
Clulyan had never met an Elf before, but his father spoke of them many times. As a child, being uninterested in girls or silly things like love, his favorite tales were of the adventures of the nine companions who had set out to free the peoples of Middle Earth from the evil Sauron.  
But now that he was older and had come to enjoy anything with a remote sense of loveliness, understood what his father had meant when he told him of the Lady Galadriel. Merely touching those three silken tresses that he'd kept in that small wooden box of his brought tears to the elderly Dwarf's eyes.  
His father. He'd almost forgotten.  
Clulyan managed to bring his eyes up to meet the Elf's. "Pardon me, but since you are from Mirkwood, then maybe you can help me. I was sent to find a certain Elf-lord. I have an urgent message for him from my father..." He searched his mail nervously until he found the slip of parchment stamped with his family's seal. This he handed to her.  
"May I know who I am to deliver this to?" she asked after a long pause between them. "Oh y-yes... I... ummm..." Suddenly Clulyan's mind was a blank. Who was it again? He wracked his nervous brain. More heat spread to his cheeks as he stuttered and saw her holding back a smile. Who was it? Lembas? No, that's a food... Legal? No. Legaless...  
"Legolas! That's the name- Legolas," he nearly shouted. Relief surged through his tiny body. Legolas, that was it.  
The grin dissolved from his lips when he saw her face. Her cheeks blanched, the smile disappeared, and the glow around her seemed to fade. She stared ahead blankly. He had shaken her, but how, he didn't know.  
Finally, he cleared his throat and brought her out of her trance. To his surprise, she crumpled the letter up in her slender hand. Then she turned on her heel and began to walk away briskly.  
"Wait, Miss Elf! What is the matter?" She stopped and stiffened. A voice that was as cold as stone and just as gritty, responded, "You're wasting your time here if you're searching for Legolas." "Why? I was told he resides in Mirkwood-" "He did. But that was a long time ago, Master Dwarf." "But what am I to tell my father?" "Tell him that he disappeared years ago. That is all he need know." "And who should I say gave me this message, Miss Elf?"  
Clulyan sneered this last comment out, angry with her for snapping at him.  
She whirled around to face him. "His daughter." 


	2. Dwarf Meets Elf

Again I say, I do not own anything that Tolkien created. So please don't sue me, kill me, or throw helpless veggies at me.  
  
This chapter moves kind of slow at first, but it will get better, I promise. Also, a BIG thank you to the reviewers for taking the time to write in. Now on we go! Woo-hoo!  
  
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Clulyan could only stare at her with all the expression of a goldfish. Daughter? He'd never heard any stories about any child when his father spoke of Legolas.  
  
"Surely you jest..." he murmured. Her eyes blazed then, and Clulyan found himself cowering as she spoke. "Jest? No, Dwarf, I believe that is what you are doing. Everyone knows that no one has seen Legolas in decades. So you can tell whoever sent you that if I ever see you again, I will shoot you between your beady little eyes. I don't need to be troubed by people who have no respect for others. Do you understand me?" Her voice had steadily risen to a shout, while Clulyan had slowly begun to grow smaller in stature.  
  
He mewled out a 'yes'.  
  
Her muscles relaxed a bit, and she quickly retreated back into her forest home. Clulyan was left standing alone and bewildered.  
  
The nerve of that Dwarf! How dare he take advantage of her trust! Her trust! Melime fumed. Should have killed him right there when I first saw him...  
  
She stopped, alarmed at the last thought in her head. Her chest tightened. If she had any tears left to shed, they would have fallen then. How could she have hardened so?  
  
Then another thought occurred to her: what if he had been telling the truth? What if he really did have a message for her father? True, every Elf knew that Legolas must surely be dead, but did the Dwarves?  
  
She glanced down at the letter that was still clenched in her fist. Slowly, carefully, she peeled the note open and was shocked to find that there was indeed writing. Her eyes scanned over the Elvish letters...  
  
My dearest friend,  
I am afraid that old age, not to mention all the battles that this Dwarf has endured, has finally caught up with me. However, I am sure that you are still modeling in front of a looking glass. Ha!  
While it would be my pleasure to visit you one last time in your home, I fear that I cannot. The purpose of this letter is to summon you here. My last wish is to see you and yours, and talk of old times once more.  
The only thing that I must ask is that you hurry. Age does not wait for us mortals, eh? I hope to see you soon. Remember, 40-41. Ha!  
With warmest wishes,  
Gimli  
  
"Master Dwarf!" Melime shouted at the top of her voice. She ran back through the trees, searching for him. She burst into the clearing that she'd left him standing in and called out again. Suddenly, her sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone muttering to himself.  
  
She sprinted toward the voice and found the young Dwarf sitting on a fallen tree, pondering to himself out loud. She cleared her throat as he had done earlier.  
  
He turned his head. A sheen of tears glistened in his eyes, and Melime was instantly sorry for her outburst earlier. She of all people should know how badly it hurt to know that you were losing your father.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master Dwarf. I shouldn't have been so harsh before. I suppose I still have not recovered from my father's disappearance. I was not thinking clearly. Please forgive me?"  
  
She waited for what he would say- which was nothing. Melime let out a soft sigh to herself and moved to leave. Just as she was about to push her way back into the seclusion of the forest, a voice said, "What is your name, Miss Elf?"  
  
"Melime, only child of Legolas, son of Thranduil. And you?"  
  
"Clulyan."  
  
"Grandson of Gloin, father of Gimli?"  
  
Melime smiled and held out her hand. Clulyan slowly reached out and took it, as though he was afraid to touch her.  
  
"Well, now that we've had a proper introduction, I must confess that I read the letter from your father. And while mine won't ever see this..." She held up the rumpled piece of parchment. "... I am his only next of kin. I handle all of his old duties. So if you can put up with a stubborn and sometimes rude Elf, I'd like to accompany you back to your home."  
  
Was Clulyan hearing this correctly? Did she just propose taking the place of Legolas? The woman that had, just minutes ago, been screaming in his face that if she ever saw him again, she'd kill him?  
  
"I would be honored to have you with me, Lady Melime." Clulyan could see no sign of hostility in her crystalline eyes and, for some reason that he could not explain, trusted her. The glow returned to her face and she released his hand.  
  
She shifted the quiver on her back, pushed back a tree limb that obstructed their path back toward the mountains, and led him toward his homeland.  
  
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"Do all Elves move so fast?" Clulyan puffed, trying to keep up with Melime's unbelievable walking speed. He heard her musical laugh in front of him. "It's not that Elves move fast, it's that Dwarves are so slow. Would you like me to slacken my pace to accommodate your little legs?"  
  
"Psh! Little, she says! Slow, she says! I'll have you know, Miss Melime, that dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over small distances." His comments brought another giggle from her lips.  
  
Over the few hours that they had known each other, Melime and Clulyan had formed a fast relationship that rivaled that only of their fathers'. Their speech began to resemble the conversations that Legolas and Gimli often had.  
  
Melime stopped to wait for him to catch up with her, all the while digging in her pack for the leaf-wrapped packages. When she found one, she broke off a piece of a cream-colored wafer. "Here." She tossed the small morsel to him, and nibbled at the other half of it.  
  
He caught it and studied the food before taking a bite of it. "What is this? It's better than honey-cakes!" He shoved the whole piece into his mouth and even licked the crumbs from his hand. Melime snorted, clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out hers. "Of course. I would think that you would know that lembas is better than any other waybread."  
  
She wrapped up the half of uneaten lembas and stuffed it back into her pack, and tossed it back over her shoulder. "Ready to keep going?" Clulyan cocked a bushy brow at her as if to ask, 'Are you insane?', but he nodded and continued to trek on behind her.  
  
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Okay, how's that? C'mon, I need a little boost here. Open for any criticism... 


	3. Nap Time

Yay! I feel so special. Good reviews make me happy! Hee-hee. Once again, I don't own Tolkien's stuff. (Don't hurt the poor veggies anymore, please!) And I beg forgiveness from oremis and Legolas for kidnapping their daughter, but I am just that evil. Mwa-Ha-Ha! Now onward!  
  
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Clulyan had no idea as to how long they'd been walking. His legs swore that it had been at least a week, but really it could've only been two days at the most. He often found himself stumbling along mechanically behind Melime. After a while, not even the lembas was enough to help him.  
  
"Have to stop..." he gasped, holding onto a tree to keep himself steady. "Too tired..." Melime turned briefly, then kept walking. "Oh, c'mon, Clulyan. I thought you were a big, tough Dwarf."  
  
The only response to Melime's comment was a dull thump. She stopped. "Clulyan?" She turned back to face him and burst out laughing. From out of the top of a thick cluster of bushes two boots stuck up in the air.  
  
Still grinning to herself, she dragged the sleeping Dwarf out of the brush by his feet. Guess we do have to take a break, she thought. A couple hours ought to be good enough...  
  
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She hadn't bothered to make any sort of camp. If he could fall over into the bushes and sleep in a matter of seconds, she figured she didn't need to.  
  
Instead, Melime decided to rest herself. She found a large tree relatively close to where she left Clulyan and climbed it. The trees were the only thing that stayed the same for her. Everything else might change, but she could always count on the trees.  
  
She found a thick branch that wasn't very far up from the ground and settled down there, just in case Clulyan needed her. Her long legs hung down from either side of the limb, and her back rested against the trunk. She let herself slowly sink into the world of Elven dreams.  
  
**************  
  
Melime's half-lidded eyes snapped open wide as the sharp crack of a stick boomed in her sensitive ears. She sat up quickly.  
  
The first thought that jumped into her head was 'Oh no... Clulyan.' Not giving her mind any more time to think, she swung down from the branch and landed lightly on her feet.  
  
She did not know exactly how long she had been dreaming, but it could be estimated as about six or seven hours. When she'd shut the world out, it was around four or so, judging by the sun's position in the sky. Now everything was engulfed in blackness. Not even the moon's silvery beams could pierce the dense canopy of Mirkwood's forests.  
  
However, thanks to her keen senses, she was able to both hear and see the still-sleeping Dwarf. She stood over his body and whispered his name. "Just a few more minutes..." Clulyan mumbled, then rolled onto his other side.  
  
There was another snap, then she heard something like heavy footsteps. Panic welled in her throat. Though Legolas had not left his daughter untrained in the ways of fighting, she had never been forced to face anything bigger than an angry deer. And she had no desire to find herself up against much more so soon.  
  
The Elf, annoyed and frightened, decided that she could not waste any more time on trying to coax the stubborn Dwarf out of his slumber. Her foot connected with his backside, and he bolted up. "What in the-" She clapped her hand over his mouth, muffling his outburst at his rude awakening, and crouched down beside him.  
  
"We have to keep moving," Melime whispered. Her voice blended with the sighs of the wind in the trees. "Something is out there." Her eyes darted around nervously. "We must get to the Caves as fast as we can."  
  
A deep, rumbling bellow descended upon them. Melime felt something soaking through her light garments. Large raindrops began to fall from the sky, then sped up, quickly drenching the two.  
  
If her warning about her fear that they were being watched was not enough to rouse the groggy and grumpy Dwarf, the storm was. He clambered to his feet, still shaking off the last effects of sleep.  
  
An incredible flash illuminated the forest, and for a brief moment, everything was as clear as day. And what Melime saw in that second of light would have wretched a scream from even the most courageous man's throat.  
  
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Okay, I know you're all dying to review. C'mon, just hit that lil' button! Please? Pretty Please? 


	4. The Glittering Caves

Once again, I state that most of this stuff is not mine.  
  
Also, I have no real idea as to where the Glittering Caves are and I'm too lazy to try to find them on the map of ME, so I'm taking my liberties with the locations.  
  
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"Run!" Melime ordered. She gave Clulyan a hard shove forward and followed him into the depths of the dense forest. Immediately, whatever the thing was that had frightened her so badly began to give chase. He could hear the loud, dull thumps of its heavily-booted feet hitting the ground.  
  
Clulyan dared not look back over his shoulder to see what their pursuer was. Even if he had wanted to know, he would only be able to see Melime running behind him. And if he had turned to see, he would have smacked face-first into any one of the numerous trees that surrounded them.  
  
Melime had never seen an orc in her life, but she knew that the thing she saw standing between the trees matched her father's description to a tee. She turned for a moment to find it lumbering closer and closer to them.  
  
Going at the speed that they were, she knew that it would soon be right on top of them. But the young princess was not without a plan. She increased her speed and easily threw herself and Clulyan into what seemed to be a thick clump of bushes. But to the trained eye, it was simply a rather quick but unpleasant short-cut. The brush hid a steep drop that led straight down to the Glittering Caves.  
  
Clulyan got a nose full of dirt as he hit the ground, and Melime landed unceremoniously on top of him. *At least she's light...* he thought. Barely given a moment to recover, Clulyan was dragged to his feet and pushed onward again. "Go! The Caves are near... I'll keep it busy while you warn your people."  
  
"Keep what busy?"  
  
A rustling sound made both of their heads snap upwards. "That!" Melime hissed.  
  
Clulyan's jaw dropped. It looked like a mutated man. Another brilliant flash enabled Clulyan to see its features better. Jagged and greenish teeth stood out against blackened skin. In its hand, it held a long sword. It looked around with its gleaming yellow eyes, then grinned cruelly.  
  
"Go!" Melime snapped, but Clulyan needed no further coaxing after seeing its face. He was already running as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him. She followed his example, as did the orc.  
  
Melime hoped that she could weave around and maybe distract the orc from Clulyan so he might be able to get the secret gates of his father's kingdom open, then they could run inside. Unfortunately, there were hardly any trees after the drop offâ€" just flatlands. Getting it lost and confused was hardly an option now.  
  
Still, she couldn't give up yet. She snatched up a stone and hurled it back at the orc. It hit it square in the forehead, but that barely made it twitch. And while the fall off of the drop had slowed the creature's pace, he was easily gaining on them. She prayed that Clulyan was just as good of a "natural-sprinter" as he claimed to be.  
  
Clulyan nearly crashed into the rock wall and started beating at it with his hands. "C'mon, c'mon..." He was beginning to panic as Melime came up beside him, panting."I thought you were supposed to be keeping it busy!" His voice was more than just a little saracastic. "Well my plan back-fired, okay? Just get us inside!" she screamed. "I'm trying!" Where was it? It had to be here... "Clulyan, hurry! He's coming!"  
  
"I'm working on it!"  
  
She, too, pounded on the seemingly solid rock. "Why don't you know where it is? This *is* your country!" She looked back, then continued to vent as she "helped" Clulyan search for the gates. "Argh! You Dwarves and your stupid hidden doors!"  
  
"If you're so smart, Elf, then why don't you figure something out and I'll sit here and scream at you? I thought you were supposed to be good at this kind of hunting-killing stuff! Why do you have that bow if you don't know how to use it anyway?"  
  
Melime stopped hitting the wall. Of course! Her bow. She slapped herself mentally for not remembering sooner. Her training had included both knivework and archery, but she felt that she was more skilled with the bow; therefore, she felt much more at ease with it than her twin daggers.  
  
She quickly snatched it from around her shoulder and fixed an arrow to the string. Thenâ€" calmly, as though she was safely practicing back in Greenwoodâ€" she turned and, after taking aim, let it fly.  
  
There was a whistling sound, then a choked cry and a thud. Clulyan whipped his head around. Melime stood beside him, a relieved, and somewhat satisfied look on her lovely face. He followed her gaze. Whatever "it" was, was lying dead on the ground, an Elven arrow through its throat. He realized that he'd been holding his breath and let it out in one rush.  
  
"So, you do know how to use that thing..." He shot her a sly smile and resumed his search for the doors while she walked toward the body and ripped her arrow from its neck. "I guess I do," she muttered, coming up alongside of him. "But now the problem is how are we going to get inside?"  
  
"Don't worry. I'll find the gates."  
  
"Like you were 'finding' them two minutes ago?"  
  
He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye that just told her to keep anymore comments to herself and kept skimming the wall with his fingertips. There! He felt the smooth button-like trigger under his hand.  
  
"Aha! Told you I'd find it!" he crowed triumphantly. He pushed on the secret notch in the rock, and a grinding noise signaled that he was indeed correct. The rock slid open to reveal a dark opening... and a foul odor.  
  
Melime gagged, clapping her hand over her nose and mouth. Did the Caves always smell like this? Looking at Clulyan, she supposed not. His gloved hand was also shielding his nose. "Ugh... what is that?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by her palm. He shrugged but stepped inside. Melime, however, didn't move.  
  
"Coming?" He turned around to look at her.  
  
She stared past him into the darkness of the mines. Melime, like all Elves, detested closed-in spaces, and that god-awful smell was making her delicate stomach churn. But she didn't want to stand outside with a dead body in the rain, and Clulyan was relying on her to see Gimli. So with one last glance back at the woodlands that she knew and loved so much, she reluctantly slipped inside the passageway.  
  
It was warm inside the minesâ€" almost overly so. And there was a feeling of closeness, like the walls were caving in on her. Melime drew closer to a now comfortable Clulyan. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt afraid again. Perhaps it was just some after-effects of slaying her first orc, but something told her she was wrong.  
  
Clulyan chuckled when he noticed the Elf's unease at being in the dark warmth of his home. He gave her a friendly nudge to her ribs "What is the matter, Melime? We're safe now. You have nothing to fear here. Well, except maybe that smell. Don't rightly know what it it myself... Anyway, whatever that thing was is dead and locked out."  
  
" 'That thing' was an orc. And if I remember correctly, they rarely travel alone. Though since the War ended, they were scattered and few remain, I doubt if one would be so eager to attack an Elf and a Dwarf by itself..."  
  
"Well, its friendsâ€" if it had anyâ€" are also trapped outside, now aren'tâ€""  
  
He stopped in mid-sentence as they came to a large hall lit by a few flickering torches. "No..." he murmured. "NO!" The loud wail burst from his lips and bounced off the walls.  
  
Melime looked around the cavern in mute horror. She was suddenly her father, standing in the depths of Moria. Bodies seemed to be everywhere. The blood of who knew how many Dwarves painted the once shimmering walls a deep reddish-brown. The stench of newly decaying flesh filled her nostrils, and Melime felt dizzy and sick. She would have clung to the wall for support, but had no desire to touch anything close to the innocents' blood. Death closed his icy fingers around the two of them.  
  
Clulyan fell to the floor, slamming his fists into the ground hard enough to cause an earthquake. No, this couldn't be. Just days ago, he'd seen these guards alive. They couldn't be dead!  
  
Melime saw Clulyan's small eyes welling up with tears. She knew what must be going through his head. Not only were the dead his friends, but some could be family. If the subjects were dead, then so too must be the lord. Just at that thought, her heart sank.  
  
Wait a minute... As far as she knew, the Caves were a peaceful place. Even Mirkwood was now known to most as Greenwood since the Ring and Its maker had been destroyed in the War. What could have possibly done this? If there was some sort of evil lurking about, wouldn't Gimli's letter be more worrisome? But the old Dwarf seemed at ease, content with the fact that he was growing old. And though Melime hadn't counted the bodies of the dead, she knew there couldn't possibly be enough to be a whole kingdom of them. Only thirty at the most. It just didn't make sense.  
  
Suddenly, as though a bolt of lightning from outside had sparked a flame in the dead timber of her brain, everything came together like a wildfire. The idea that she had would have sounded crazy even to her, but then again, this was no ordinary time.  
  
"Clulyan, may I ask you something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Exactly how did you get that letter for my father?"  
  
"He gave it to me, how else?"  
  
"But *how* did he give it to you?" (Okay, those lines just sounded dirty...) "Did he actually put the letter into your hand and tell you to find Legolas and give it to him?" (That sounded bad too :-P)  
  
"Well, not exactly... I was summoned to his chambers. He told me to go as fast as I could to the house of Legolas Thranduillion, then slid the letter under his door. He said it was an urgent message, and he sounded upset, so I did as he said. But it seems I've failed..." His voice was saturated with depression.  
  
Melime's throat tightened. It was just as she thought. She knew what had happened to the Dwarves and what was surely going to happen to them. She felt the "walls" close in more, and she laid a hand on Clulyan's shoulder.  
  
"May I ask you one more thing?"  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"Just how good are you with that axe of yours?"  
  
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*Gasps* Nice little hobbitses thought I really was going to kill Gimli? My wittle Gimlikins? NEVER! ...well not yet, anyway...*crazy laughter* 


	5. New Enemies

Sorry for the delay folks, but I told ya, those damned orderlies never leave me alone. And I swear to God, they sabotaged all the computers so that they shut down before I could save any of the chapters that I wrote! Oh well...  
Anyhoo, I'm back now! Mwa-ha-ha! See, I changed the rating again, because of a morbid feeling that I had one day and a certain scene coming up here. *cough, rape, lots of bloodshed, cough* Just wanted to be safe.  
All right, enough jabber: on with the show!!!  
  
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Clulyan brought his tearful gaze up to meet Melime's. She still stood right beside him, but now he noticed that her eyes no longer seemed frightened. In fact, they were gleaming with a new and strange light. They flicked for a split second to her left, then returned to staring down at him.  
  
The Dwarf's face continued to hold the look of confusion, so Melime repeated her action of looking to her left twice more. He finally took the hint and followed her eyes to the space over her shoulder. One brow cocked upwards in a gesture of understanding, and she watched as his hand went down to the ax that lay dormant beside his knee. It took all of her will to not move as she felt the hot damp breath of death on her neck until Clulyan gave her a quick nod.  
  
In barely a fraction of a second, Melime was on her side on the ground, Clulyan above her, swinging his ax like a madman. And in many ways, he was just that: mad. Mad with anger and grief.  
  
The orc that had been creeping up on her from behind fell with a screech, calling his companions to battle. Hundreds of black bodies swarmed into the hall in response. The clamoring and clattering of their armor and weapons was enough to make Melime's head explode. She sprang into action for the simple sake of relieving her sensitive ears from the unbearable roar.  
  
The pair let out their own battle-cries and rushed to meet the filthy, blood-thirsty army. Clulayn had since recovered another ax from one of his fallen comrades and had become a tornado of flying chainmail and Dwarf weaponry. Anything that came within two feet of the four-foot-tall being was caught by him and thrown across the room only to crash into one of the walls, dead.  
  
While Clulyan used only his axes, Melime lashed out with everything that she had. Arms, legs, teeth, and even her head became weapons of mass destruction. She kicked, bit, punched, elbowed, and head-butted any and everything.  
  
She reached back and, with a quick flick of her wrists, unsheathed her twin daggers.  
  
*I have a present for you, Melime.*  
  
It was because of the close-combat that she had thrown herself into, Melime resolved that it would be the best thing to use them instead of her bow. The only reason that she disliked the Elven knives was that she believed that she was far less skillful with these, and hardly had any practice with them. On the contrary, she quickly found that she could manuever the twisting and twirling blades with far more agility than she could have ever dreamed.  
  
*See? They're exactly the same...*  
  
Her first victim barely saw her before she cut its windpipe and moved on to the next one. Melime found herself easily hacking her way through the sea of dark bodies. She carried her father's grace and accuracy, and it showed in her combat skills. If one watched her in action, one could compare the young Elven princess to a ballet dancer. It was in this time that she allowed her mind to take her away to a place where only Elves dwelt without breaking her concentration on her enemies.  
  
"Now... Duck, kick, up, strike! Good!" The small child standing next to the straw dummy relaxed her muscles and peeped out from underneath the blindfold that hid her bright blue eyes. Her proud father knelt beside her, smiling.  
  
"It was good?" she asked hopefully.  
  
The blonde Elf scooped his young daughter into his arms and gently removed the cloth from her head. "It was perfect, lapse *baby*. If you keep practicing, you'll be able to handle anything even better than I!" She giggled and nuzzled her cheek into the smooth flesh at his neck.  
  
Legolas set Melime down on the grass and said, "I have a present for you, Melime." Slowly, he produced a set of twin Elven knives from his quiver. "These are for you. One is yours, the other is mine. See? They're exactly the same..." He placed them into her small hands.  
  
Melime couldn't breathe. Surely he couldn't be giving her his own dagger as a gift! She rubbed her thumb against the ivory handles and gave them both a good spin in her fingers. Incredibly light and beautiful. The sunlight glinted off the steel, turning the Elvish inscriptions on the blade a dazzling silver. She loved it.  
  
Clulyan paused for a brief moment to catch his breath and see how Melime was doing. He found her in the seemingly endless herd of orcs, chopping away like a natural born assassin. Even from a distance, he could see that her eyes had a faraway, almost blank, look to them. She was emotionless, showing neither passion, nor anger, nor fear for what she was doing. Indeed, it looked to him as though her every move had been choreographed, and that she was merely another actress going through her daily routine.  
  
Unfortunately, his fascination for her flawless performance in the fight had distracted him from his own struggle. Before Clulyan even knew what was happening, his ax clattered to the stone floor. He looked up at his attacker just as his other arm was twisted round behind his back.  
  
"MELIME!" A voice shattered the calming silence of the forest of southern Greenwood. Melime spun around.  
  
To her absolute horror, instead of seeing her home, there was only a dark cave, smelling of decaying flesh and death. Instead of a small girl with her father, there was only a full-grown Elf, surrounded by creatures that could have been raised from the deepest pits of hell itself. And in the midst of the vile beings, there was a single Dwarf, crying out helplessly. "Meli-" The shout for help was cut short by a blow to the poor thing's head.  
  
Wanya! *Go!* a voice that sounded remarkably similar to her father's echoed in her mind.  
  
"Clulyan!" Melime broke from her trance and dove mindlessly into the pile of orcs that had assaulted her friend. She sliced through them, drenching herself in their thick black blood. She fought through the mess with her hands until she felt something furry. Then, wrapping her hand in a good hunk of it, she pulled with all of her might. "Not the beard..." she heard a muffled voice mumble from under the foul-smelling bodies.  
  
She was truly alone now. Clulyan, who she had just dragged out from under the orcs, was unconscious. She had no back-up, yet there were still at least a hundred orcs to be slain. She could only remember one other time in her life that she'd ever felt so hopelessly lost.  
  
But out-numbered as she was, Melime refused to let herself or her newfound friend die. She vowed that Death would take her prisoner before they ever could. With a final glance down at Clulyan, she readied herself for the attack that would surely follow.  
  
Although the young Elf put up a good fight, there were simply too many of the enemy. They had formed a cricle around their two victims and were only kept from advancing by the rotating Elven blades. Anything that dared to move an inch closer to her was caught by either her left or right arm. Then one certain orc grew brave and managed to slip in closer and catch the Elf on her blindside by her right arm. Before she had a chance to react, it bent her wrist and elbow up, snapping the bone. Melime gritted her teeth to keep from screaming, but dropped her other dagger in order to claw at her arm in agony.  
  
It was all downhill from there. After having her arm shattered and rendering herself defenseless, the orcs found it rather easy to take her down. Her legs were kicked out from under her, then a rain of blows came down on the disabled Elf. A fist blackened her eye, while a foot lodged her jaw out of place. She tried in vain to reach any one of her weapons. Finally, a swift, hard blow to the back of her head with her own dagger hilt introduced her into a welcomed oblivion.  
  
"ATAR!" the sixteen-year-old Elf shouted, trying desperately to free herself from the clutches of the Men. Tears leaked down her dirty face, creating intricate patterns across her cheeks. They couldn't do this. Not to them...  
  
Another snap. Another scream. Another burst of white pain flashing across his back. The Prince of Mirkwood made no sound as his torture continued. It was worse having Melime there. Her cries were enough to make him beg for mercy on the spot. Every time the whip came down on his milky skin, leaving a bright red streak of blood, she would let loose the sound that their captors longed to hear.  
  
Hadn't they tortured the two of them enough? Hadn't she seen enough- if not too much to bear? Hadn't her father felt enough? Why did they persist? Why would anyone ever want to destroy something- someone- so beautiful? All of these questions and more ran through the young princess' head while she could only watch helplessly as Legolas was flogged.  
  
If she could have broken free, she would have taken a knife to every one of their throats. Like most Elves, Melime despised seeing that vital spark known as life being torn away from its former owner, but staring at her father brought a whole new idea to her mind. These Men deserved to die.  
  
Blood seemed to be flowing from every inch of Legolas' body. She couldn't even begin to count how many slashes were on his back. His lips were split, his eye swollen shut. Blood sprinkled the ground as another punch was laid on his jaw. His once golden hair was matted and tinged with red. She thought she could see part of one of his ribs sticking out of his side, and just thinking about how much pain he was in made her sick. But by far the worst thing was the crimson that had pooled between his slightly parted thighs.  
  
"Stop it! You're killing him!" Her wild pleas went unanswered as another loud crack sent a shudder through Legolas' body. "Please! Stop..." Her voice became a loud sob. But instead of discouraging the Men from continuing to torture the blonde Elf, it seemed to enliven the dying interest.  
  
Finally after what seemed like an eternity to the two immortals, the leader, known only to Melime as Guryn, called out for them to stop. Melime struggled in vain to escape and to run to her beaten father whose nude body was hanging by his slender wrists tethered to a tree limb above his head.  
  
Guryn motioned for them to cut him down, and her heart skipped a beat. Maybe they really had tired of their sick games, she thought. Perhaps they would let them go. But how would she get her father back home? They were miles away from any Elven residence, and their horses had been frightened off hours ago. Even if Isilme and Ilma returned, surely he would not be able to ride.  
  
Two men seized her father by his bound arms and dragged him into a kneeling position like Melime's. His eyes met hers. They carried a look of fear but also a strange sort of comfort.  
  
That repose from her terror was only momentarily lived, however. Guryn suddenly appeared at her side. He took her chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger. She could see the same desire burning deep within his eyes as when he had looked upon her father for the first time. Panic welled up in her throat.  
  
"Well now, isn't this one an exquisite little beauty? Wouldn't you agree, my fair prince?" He hissed the last three words out, turning toward Legolas. "I wonder..." He jerked her face closer to his, so that she could smell the pungent odor of liquor on his breath. "I wonder if she's as good as her father."  
  
Frightened as she was, Melime would never tolerate that sort of comment from anyone. She yanked her head away from his grip and spat into his face. But while the princess had hoped for any expression of displeasure, the Man wiped the saliva from the corner of his eye and began to laugh.  
  
"Feisty, aren't we, my pretty?" His hand crushed her raven locks when he snatched her by the back of her head. "But we shall soon remedy that," he added in a harsh whisper.  
  
With that, Guryn flung her body to the ground, then pounced on her like a crazed animal in heat. Melime's body was crushed under his. Rough brown hands tore at her thin bright green tunic until it was over her head. Two more hands closed upon her wrists to hold her down as the leader went down to the darker leggings...  
  
Legolas watched Cuthien having her clothing ripped away from her in horror. The splitting image of his partially unclad wife kicked, punched, and bit at her and his attackers. Weak as he was, the Elf would not just stand there and watch his only daughter receiving the same treatment as he had just hours ago.  
  
Using what last bits of energy he had left, Legolas swung his legs up and proceeded to "climb" the tree. He straddled the branch that kept him from using his hands and hurriedly untied the knot from around the sturdy limb. He jumped to another limb closer to them and thanked Valar that Elves were so light, that his daughter had lungs the size of Gondor, and that Men were so stupid as to turn all of their attention to his screaming child instead of keeping an eye on him.  
  
Taking careful aim, he vaulted forward, throwing his body on top of the filthy Man that had unsuccessfully been trying to remove Melime's leggings. He caught Guryn by surprise and somehow managed to knock him to the side.  
  
Melime opened her eyes when the weight on her legs was suddenly lifted. Her father was loose and scrambling to his feet. "Nornoro, Melime! *Run, Melime!*" he ordered before being tackled around his waist by Guryn.  
  
She gathered what was left of her tunic to her body and made a mad dash into the dense forest. She could hear sounds of the struggle behind her. Angry shouting, clanking of weapons. Suddenly, there was a high, blood- chilling shriek of agony that would make the strongest person cringe in discomfort. Melime froze and listened hard, straining her pointed ears for the slightest noise other than her own rapid breaths. She knew full well that only Elves had that sort of a scream.  
  
Yet she still possessed some faith in her heart that her father had only been wounded, and she found herself venturing back to the clearing, but in the safety of the trees. What she found there snuffed out what small glimmer of hope she had left. The Men were crowded in a circle around snow- white body lying in a pool of dark blood. She could see even from a distance that under the thin veil of fine blond hair, the bright blue eyes that she had cherised so greatly were shut, and she knew deep down that they would never open again.  
  
She heard Guryn's gruff, slightly slurred voice say, "Throw the body in the river. Find the girl. Kill her." His sentence might have frightened her if her heart wasn't already full of hate and grief.  
  
How could they do this? How could anyone ever want to hurt Legolas? Who had he ever wronged? Why did they kill him?  
  
"Why?" she whispered.  
  
Then something happened. Melime looked down at her own battered body, then down at her father's which was unceremoniously tossed into the river, and everything that Legolas had taught her about forgiveness was gone. The thread of kindness that she had left was snapped, leaving her only with an untolerable hatred.  
  
These Men deserved to die...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
And now, a word to my lovely reviewers (all of whom I love vewwy vewwy much!):  
  
~oremis~ Heh-heh, I always thought the idea of Gimli not being able to find the entrance to the mines kind of funny, so I thought his son should have the same, ahem, qualities. I put a little Legolas in here too, being the sweet lil' father figure that he is... Okay, so maybe it wasn't in the best of ways, but trust me, it'll work into the story! *Keep this hush-hush, but that's not the end of everyone's favorite elf* Whoops... I didn't just say that out loud did I? *grins mischievously* Thanks for all your reviews!!!!  
  
~TrueGirl~ Aww! *hugs* Thanks for putting this baby in your favorites! It made this little psycho feel very special!  
  
~abcdefgtwinkletwinkle~ Ah thank you for the compliment, and don't you worry. I have no plans of letting this story die, so looks like you all are stuck with me for a very long time...  
  
Anyone else care to share? Please do! I'll love you too and post your name with my response down here! 


	6. Nightmares Relived

"Drop them," a grating voice jarred Clulyan back to consciousness. If that had not done it, then he was sure that the sharp pain from the impact of his body hitting something hard had.  
  
He grunted at the effort of rolling onto his side. Why couldn't he use his arms? Where was he? What in the name of Middle-Earth happened? His mind clouded, and his vision blurred with the sudden onslaught of pain in his skull. He struggled again and again to turn his body so that he could see something other than the night sky. Finally giving up, he settled for turning his head slightly from side to side.  
  
A rocket flare was set off before his eyes with every movement. Bright stars danced all around his head, and he feared that he would soon pass out again. Ah, but this Dwarf shall not go quietly, he thought with a smirk. He blinked several times and successfully wiped away the colors to find himself staring up at real stars.  
  
A dull thump from his side caused him to jerk his head to the left, sending another lightning bolt to his frazzled brain. He lay still for a moment, then opened his eyes again.  
  
Then everything came flooding back to him in a turrent of flashes. His home. The orcs. The bodies... He squeezed his eyes shut, but the images were permanently scrawled into the back of his eyelids. They'd fought those... things, and apparently, they'd lost. His secured wrists were evidence enough of that. But what about Melime? What had those devils done to her? He looked to his side again.  
  
The Elf was lying on her stomach, her wrists tied tightly behind her back. He could already see that her bonds were rubbing her ivory skin raw. His stomach churned as he scanned the rest of her and took in what he saw. Her right arm was twisted and bent unnaturally. Bruises marred her delicate features, and blood oozed from a gash on her head somewhere in the mess of tangled hair, causing a trail of red to slither down her creamy cheek. One of her incredible eyes had been blackened and was swelling badly.  
  
She must have put up a good fight, he thought ruefully. Doesn't seem like she would give in too easily to much of anything.  
  
A mewling squeak broke his concentration on her. The sound was barely audible, but to those close enough to hear, it sounded like a young child or small animal crying. It seemed that the soft whimpers were coming from somewhere close to the fallen Elf. Leaning his head more toward her, Clulyan realized that it was his friend that was making the pathetic noises.  
  
Melime was lolling from side to side like a snake slithering on its belly. She seemed to be fighting even in her dreams. Her legs scraped against the rocky ground in a feeble attempt to escape this invisible foe.  
  
Steadily, the soft whimpers rose in volume to become loud cries and moans. "No..." Clulyan heard her mumble. "No, Atar... No! NO!"  
  
Without warning, her good eye sprung open, revealing a shimmering blue orb brighter than any star that he'd ever lain eyes on. It darted around furiously before closing, then opening again.  
  
"Melime?" His own voice was foreign to his ears. It sounded gritty and croaky, as though he had indulged in far too much liquor the night before. "Melime?"  
  
He could see now that her eye had morphed from a clear, bright blue to a deep sapphire. She blinked, and a silver tear fell from her ebony lashes and slithered down her cheek, mixing with her blood.  
  
"Melime?" Now he was really worried. It was a well known fact that his father had taught him about Elves that they rarely ever cried, and when they did, the cause had to be something unbearably hard to deal with. What frightened him further was that he had heard that sometimes when they shed their tears, it was a tell-tale sign that they were dying of a broken heart. He couldn't even think of being left alone in the clutches of these foul beings. She couldn't die. He would not let her. She was his friend.  
  
"Melime?" Clulyan's hardly familiar, yet concerned voice called out to her once more. She looked to him and saw his head turned toward her. His small, black eyes locked with her pain-filled ones for what could have been hours.  
  
She was aware that her lip had begun to tremble. Her pearly teeth clamped down on it to keep herself from weeping any more. But it was a battle that she could not win. The things that her unconscious mind had stirred up refused to be contained any longer. Try as she might, she couldn't force them back down, then cork the bottle shut ever again.  
  
A loud sob burst from her throat and her bloody tears stained the ground under her cheek. Everything that she'd held back for all those years spilled from her. The agony of death, the hatred for herself and what she'd done, the anger with those who dared to hurt her- all of it.  
  
Melime's tortured wail sent a shiver down Clulyan's spine. Never in his entire life had he ever heard a sound so heartbreaking. He could hear within that cry all that she had suffered during her existance.  
  
That brought up another question for the already perplexed Dwarf: What exactly had she been through to make her scream like that? That sound wasn't something that just anyone could make. It was more like a feeling that one could experience. It was what he had felt when he had seen the corpses of his friends and relatives lying in the Great Hall of his homeland. What wound to her heart had their encounter with the orcs reopened? He had to know.  
  
With as much effort as he could muster, Clulyan forced himself to flip over twice so that he was lying right beside her on his back. He nudged her with one of his trapped arms. She had but to look up before she buried her face into his shoulder.  
  
"Clulyan!" Her speech was partially impaired. He guessed that something in her mouth should also be added to her list of injuries. "Clulyan!"  
  
"Hey!" the same rough voice from earlier snarled. "Shut that thing up!" Clulyan looked to his right to see a group of agitated orcs standing and sitting around.  
  
He cocked his head to her side so it rested against hers. His headache had grown worse with all the moving around, but he had to shush her yowling before the leader decided to come over and silence her himself. "Ssshh, it's okay, Melime."  
  
"N-no, it's not... " she stammered.  
  
"It will be." He looked back to see if anything was coming their way before continuing to console her.  
  
"Clulyan, you don't understand! I killed them!" He was about to repeat his previous sentence but stopped. "You what?"  
  
"I killed them! I killed every one of them. And I liked it. I liked it! They hurt us... They deserved to die, Clulyan!" He pushed himself up a little bit more with his bound arms so he could see her face. "All right. Just calm down. Take a deep breath." He felt like a parent soothing a child after a terrible nightmare. And she, like a frightened toddler, complied to his order by inhaling shakily.  
  
"Now, tell me what-"  
  
A sound not truly familiar to Clulyan broke his sentence. It sounded like thunder. Like the sound of the orc army when they charged the two of them, only worse. In fact, he could feel the ground beneath him shudder as though there was an earthquake abroad.  
  
He lifted his aching head from the rocky ground and looked up past Melime's trembling shoulder. His eyes bulged to twice their normal size in surprise.  
  
Men- too many to count- were riding toward them on large powerful steeds. Maybe their captivity would not last forever after all! The Men were heavily armed and wearing what looked to be uniforms of some sort. He waited nervously for what would happen when the two great armies collided.  
  
The orcs didn't seem to be too concerned with the stampede that was charging straight for them. Were they really that confident of themselves? What a shock they would receive when the Men mowed them down like grass!  
  
But it was Clulyan who received the most stunning blow. Instead of increasing their speed into the "camp" the Men slowed the horses down, and the one that appeared to be the leader dismounted and strolled over to the orc that had shouted at Melime and him.  
  
He was forced to strain his ears to hear their voices, but Melime had no problem catching their conversation:  
  
"Well done, Grarg. The master will be pleased."  
  
"Grarg" merely made a growling sound at the Man.  
  
"Hmph. All right, men, take them away!"  
  
Melime stared ahead blankly. That voice... Oh God, she knew that voice...  
  
Suddenly the ropes around her wrists tightened, and she was dragged roughly to her feet. Clulyan was treated in the same manner so that they were standing side by side. But instead of lowering her eyes from her captors, she held her head up. She met every one of their gazes with a icy glare.  
  
"We meet again, my dear." Melime's stomach clenched at the sound of his voice. The man came around in front of her, grinning wickedly. The eyes that haunted her dreams met her cold stare. She let her eyes travel along his face. Thirty seven years later, and he still looked the same. All except for that long scar that's running down his face, she thought with a slight smirk. A scar that she herself had given him.  
  
She forced herself to give him a smug smile, despite the urge to spit in his face and the pain in her jaw. "Hello, Guryn."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Now for my reviewers (love ya guys!):  
  
~thirteen~ Yeah, this is definitely depression-mode story, lol. Anyhoo, here's the continuation... And treat for you from Gaylord!  
  
~kellums~ *shudder* Yes... I actually started writing this when my b/f (lying son of a bitch bastard) left me, so it's got that whole let's make everyone sad and miserable thing to it. Harry Potter is just my way of killing people that I hate in a fun way. This is just the sad scary way, lol. Treat for you...  
  
~Bloom Gurl~ Um, I am not authorized to answer that question... I'm glad you liked the story though. I'll keep adding chapters now that I know somebody's actually reading this crap. :-) Treat?  
  
~pastlemouth~ Not allowed to answer that question by order of my muses... Treat bag's comin' around!  
  
~Radiion-hobbitwarrior~ Yesss, my oh-so-sad-and-serious plot was actually the first thing that I wrote for fanfiction.com, but no one was really reading it, and I couldn't be serious all the time (just when I think of my ex-b/f and all the Valium that they've got me strung on) so I started up my other two ficcies! Anyhoo, I got 2 of my fics updated! That should keep everyone happy for a few minutes, right? :-) Treat for you & everyone else that may be reading this with you! 


	7. Together in Hell

Mm-hmm. More misery for the children of our heroes. I'm evil, I know. But what do you want when you combine a mentally unstable writer with way, way, way too much soda, sad music, and severe Luka-deprivation? :p  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
*Cold. So very cold.*  
  
A shiver played down his spine, and a ragged breath was drawn. How many more? he wondered. How many more times would he be forced to breathe in the humid stench of rotting carcasses? He inhaled again, and coughed as the horrid air clogged his lungs.  
  
He curled up in the corner of the cell that he was forced to share with at least a dozen rats and began to drift into unconsciousness. It was not by any means sleep. Sleep was a peaceful rest. What he did was fall into a nightmare-like world of old memories, most of which could not be conjured up in his conscious mind anymore.  
  
An oily, furry body traveled over his bare foot, its tiny claw-like nails digging into his skin, but he has learned to ignore it. Ignore it like he ignored the taunts and cat-calls that he received on his way back down to hell.  
  
He rubbed his still-burning and unswollen eye from the sudden exposure to the dull lighting his master's chambers. He had grown accustomed to the dark, the pitch blackness that enveloped him day after day, just the way that his master had planned.  
  
He hated it. Hated his own weakness in allowing himself to be broken like a horse. There was no doubt in his mind that he had put up a good fight, but in the end he had succumbed to the Man's will. He hated the darkness that he had been thrown into because of his unwillingness to go easily. He hated the pain that he felt physically, but most of all, he hated the way that his master could draw something much more difficult to obtain than blood from him--- his tears.  
  
A dirty, pale fist came up and wiped a tear-stained cheek. He had been able to do it again. He did it every time, no matter how hard he fought it. The Master had forced him to cry. The Man's twisted obsession with the emotional agony that he put his prisoners through seemed to arouse him more deeply than the beatings that he administered.  
  
A sudden wave of nausea and shame overtook him, and he found himself lashing out at his four-legged cell-mates. He seized the small body that had begun to creep up his leg and hurled the squealing creature across the tiny room. It bounced off the slime-covered wall and fell limply to the floor.  
  
Instead of the wild pleasure that he was sure his master felt from hurting living things, all he felt was an even worse feeling of sadness and anger. It crashed over him, and he began to sob uncontrollably.  
  
The result of his violent shaking was like a punch in the stomach. He doubled over, holding his sides as he retched up what little food was in his body. Falling back against the stone, the last thing he thought was that maybe he really was dying, and how that might not be such a terrible thing.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Atar..." He woke as soon as the sound, soft as a breath on a gentle breeze, touched his ears.  
  
Was that voice really real, or had it been just another miserable reminder of his once-happy past that had resurfaced? It must have been his imagination, he dismissed wearily. After all, no one else was kept down here--- with the exception of the bodies and rats--- especially a creature with such a lovely voice.  
  
He began to drift again when he heard it a second time. "Atar..." A girl's voice, slightly cracked with extreme emotion, but nonetheless beautiful.  
  
His eye fluttered open, and he instantly had to shield it. A soft white glow pierced his unprepared eye and shattered his brain with one blow. He heard a groan escape his dry lips, then a gasp from somewhere close by.  
  
"Is someone there?"  
  
No, he realized, this was most definitely not a dream. Not only was there light in the normally unpenetrated walls, but also a strangely familiar sweet, earthy smell lingering all about him. There was someone else trapped in this living hell.  
  
"I heard you! If there is anyone else down here, answer me!" Her shrill voice, saturated with panic, cleaved into his skull. His head began to throb. He felt the lump in the dense clump of matted hair on his head, and vaguely remembered hitting it as he fell back after he killed the rat.  
  
To keep the girl from yelling again, he forced himself to answer her fearful pleas. "I'm here," he croaked. His voice had gone unused for... days?... weeks?... months? He didn't know.  
  
"What?"  
  
He winced as her high pitch stung his sensitive ears and head. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm here." He had been louder, but the statement was cracked and raspy.  
  
"Where?"  
  
He crawled over to the barred door of his cell and stuck his arm out. "Look around," he ordered in the same broken murmur. He squinted as the harsh light grew brighter, then there she was.  
  
A pale young woman, looking to be no more than twenty peered out of her cell, which happened to be the one directly beside his own. A weak smile broke out on her face, one of relief, he supposed. Once his eye had adjusted to the light, he managed to make out some facial features more clearly. She had wide, sparkling blue eyes set in a creamy complexion marred only by a faint bruise and a small cut over her right eye. He could see that under the veil of long brown hair her ears curved up into a delicate point. That explained the glow that seemed to radiate from her body. She was an Elf.  
  
He felt a trace of a smile playing upon his cracked lips. Being near something so lovely was like a cold drink quenching a parched throat. It was something that he had, without knowing it, been missing badly.  
  
"I thought I was beginning to go mad when I heard you. I did not think anyone else merited enough hate from them to be locked down here."  
  
Before he could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of metal scraping against stone. The grating screech sent him scrambling back against the darkest corner of his cell. The familiar sound of boots scuffing, slowly coming closer and closer until he could see a light flickering against the opposite wall.  
  
Five figures stopped in front of the barred door of her newfound friend's cage. Melime could see before they even got to hers that they were Guryn's men. Disgust welled up inside of her. She had noted how quickly he moved to get away from the door when their presence was made known. What exactly had they done to him that made him hide in the dark like a beaten dog?  
  
"Those two. Get them out. No, no, you three get her. Lord Guryn said he won't be a problem," the smallest man ordered the other four about.  
  
What did he mean by "he won't be a problem"? Melime wondered. And where were they being taken out to? Would she be separated from this friend as well? What was going on?  
  
Three of the Men unlocked the gate to her cell. Melime, too caught up in her thoughts, did not fight as they grabbed her by her bare upper arms, their fingers snaking around her soft flesh, digging in roughly. Her hands were shackled behind her back, and she was dragged to her feet.  
  
"Get moving!" the largest of the three ordered, giving her a hard shove in the back. She moved forward numbly, still lost in her own world. She followed the three figures in front of her, her eyes catching on the one that stumbled about, falling every now and then, only to be kicked or hit by a gloved fist.  
  
How could they do this? she thought miserably. Even to their own race they are cruel and unfeeling. What had this man, nay perhaps this *boy* done to them?  
  
A sudden ray of light pierced the inky blackness of the dungeon, and they began to climb a stairway. Dread knotted in Melime's stomach. She had a feelingthat she knew where they were going. To see Guryn...  
  
Sure enough, at the top of the stairs, they went through the door that she remembered from her first day in this slow hell. It led into the grand hall, the place where Guryn, the self-proclaimed king, "entertained" as he put it. Melime shivered. What that had meant, she knew not and did not want to know, for the Man had said it with that evil glint shining in his eye.  
  
She was pushed through the doorway and onto her knees in front of the throne that Guryn had most likely stolen from another much greater man and king. It took a moment for Melime's eyes to adjust to the harsh light in the room, but when it had, she really wished she had been stricken blind.  
  
In front of her, Guryn sat, a mockery of a ruler, tapping his fingers idly on the arms of the chair. "Ah, so Melime..."  
  
"Guryn..." she growled back.  
  
He tsk-tsked and uncrossed his legs. Then that sick smile played over his lips, and he rose to his feet. "Have you met my other playmate, Melime?" He held out his hand, and Melime heard a soft whimper from behind her. She turned slowly.  
  
Lying on his side not far behind her was a young man. He was curled into a fetal position and shaking. Dried blood and dirt covered his entire body, and his hair hung down in matted clumps. Not a shred of clothing still clung to him, so Melime could see that he was dangerously thin. His wrists that guarded his face from their vicious stares and blows were rubbed raw, along with his ankles.  
  
A snap of Guryn's fingers, and the Men dragged the poor wretch into a kneeling position as she was in. Fingers wound into his hair and yanked his head back, cracking his neck. Melime was afraid that they'd killed him, until she saw his one unblackened eye open slowly. It flicked to her, and she saw all the pain and misery that he felt bearing down into her soul.  
  
She let her eyes travel down his freshly exposed body, taking in every bruise and cut. She could see that several of his ribs had been broken; one was pushing against the skin at his right side, threatening to break through. And then...  
  
"You bastard..."  
  
TBC...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Who is this mysterious stranger? I'm horrible, I know! Gosh, I almost hate myself for being so mean to poor Melime and her new little buddy. Don't worry, though, it shall all be okay soon.  
  
And now, for my reviewers!  
  
~Radiion~ Back evil imposter! Away with you! *hiss* Heh-heh... I feel so bad whenever I finish writing this stuff. So mean to everyone, I am! Tsk- tsk, bad Pyshcie...  
  
~hunter goddess~ And here's the sad-psycho story, updated for you!  
  
~middleman~ I can't tell you how much I enjoy hearing reviews like yours. I think I actually blushed the first time I read it... Wait, I'm supposed to be crazy... I'm not supposed to feel anything! Ah well... I'm working on the next chapter right now actually, so I hope it will be up soon.  
  
~PrincessEvenstar~ My motto is "Violence is good." Heh-heh. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter too. Rat violence...  
  
~Mellaquiimm~ Aaahhh, retardedness is awesome. Glad you're enjoying it. Very violent though. I think I have torture-tendencies or something... Therapist would tell me to think of happy things like the fluffy bunnies... Going to happy place now... ^_^  
  
~orlandobsessed~ Hee-hee, pass the Elf around! Yes! Oh, but you must hand him back over when you are finished. I kind of want/need him back y'know. *winkie* Glad you like. Come back now, ya hear!  
  
Okay, well thank you everybody! You know how much I loves yas! Gonna go to the happy bunny place now. Gaylord, give them their candy!  
  
~*PsychoPoet*~ 


	8. Memories and Old Acquaintances

He could feel her looking at him even before he was forced to kneel in front of her. Then when his head was jerked back he could see her eyes widen with the revelation of every bruise and cut that had been inflicted upon him. He could see her pity for him, mixed strangely enough with something else. What it was, he did not know.  
  
Iluuvatar, no.  
  
Melime squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the unwanted image. Had he done it on purpose? Or was it just another one of his disgusting routines? It couldn't be. It was too perfect... The same blackened eye, even the very same broken bone that threatened to break free of his skin. Was the Man's memory of the blond Elf that he'd tortured to death as fresh in his head as it was in the victim's daughter's? And was he using that painful memory against her?  
  
"Melime?"  
  
No, she wouldn't look again. She couldn't face her father again.  
  
"Melime, you're not paying attention." His voice was that of a mother scolding her small child. "No," she whispered. She didn't need to see him; the picture was permanently scrawled onto the backs of her eyelids. "Melime!" He was getting impatient, but she shook her head wildly.  
  
Guryn's jaw clenched, and he drew his arm back. The boy kneeling on the floor flinched as he heard the loud, flat clapping sound. The Elf's head rocked back, and, without the use of her arms, she easily lost her balance, toppling over onto the cold tile floor in a heap.  
  
He moved forward, the reflexive movement of one of his upbringing. The hand on his hair held him back, and a soft cry escaped his lips as his head was yanked backwards even harder than before. Guryn turned, looking at him curiously. He took a few slow, staggering steps toward him.  
  
The Man was drunk. He could tell. Not that this was a surprise, however. He had grown to be accustomed to the drunkenness just like he had grown accustomed to the rats crawling over him at night. Hardly anything phazed him anymore.  
  
"What ever is the matter, slave?" He spat the last word into his face. Taking the boy's face in his brawny hand, he brought it close to his-- - enough so that the stench of alcohol on his breath stung at his eye and made him gag. "Jealous?"  
  
"Urya mi voronwa nwalya, waara nyano!"  
  
It took a moment for it to register in Melime's head that the words that had been hissed at Guryn had been Elvish. When it had finally sunk in, her head snapped up from the ground, just in time to see Guryn back-hand the younger Man. She watched then as he fell to the floor, much like she had moments before, and received one swift kick to the ribs.  
  
"I warned you before..." the Man growled in his slurred way, "... to... NEVER... EVER... USE THAT TONGUE IN MY PRESENCE!" With every word, his foot connected with the boy's stomach, harder and harder. With one last kick, he stormed back up to his throne and plopped down like a bored and restless child.  
  
Melime ran her tongue over her bottom lip and tasted blood. What I wouldn't do for one of my daggers right about now... she thought angrily. No, it wasn't anger anymore. It was so much more than just anger or even rage.  
  
A choking sound averted her gaze back to the Man lying on the floor. He was still on his side, coughing and gasping for air. Melime herself felt sick as she saw the slow trail of blood and saliva dripping from between his lips. At least with her father the torture had only lasted for a few hours, she thought ruefully. Who knew how long this boy had endured it...  
  
"Get them out of my sight." Guryn resumed his cool, aloof voice. "What do you want us to do with them, my lord?" Guryn seemed to consider it for a moment, but Melime refused to take her eyes from the boy to see what he was thinking with his expressions. "Put them in the dungeons. I think the rats deserve a break from them." This last snarky comment elicited a good laugh from the guards in the room.  
  
Melime felt the familiar tug of ropes on her delicate wrists as she was forced to climb to her feet again. Never taking her eyes from the boy, she stumbled forward, heading back to the door downstairs.  
  
The only remotely cheerful thought left for her to ponder over was that they would not be forced back down into the deepest recesses of the dungeons again. Yet even this small happiness was shattered into a million pieces when she heard Guryn order to his Men: "Make sure Lady Melime is cleaned up. I don't want to have that stench ruining my plans for tonight."  
  
Melime swallowed hard, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She could only imagine what his "plans" were...  
  
The upper dungeons were not nearly as empty as the ones on the lowest level. Loud banging and screams echoed off the walls all around her as she was marched down the walkway to her new cell. Turning her head to either side of her, Melime could see the other prisoners. Most were Men like Guryn- -- probably rivals that lost to him--- but some were like her. These were the ones that cowered away in the corner of their cells, not daring to make a sound as the Men walked by. Some women, some children. To them, Melime could only force a weak smile of encouragement.  
  
Finally, after what seemed to be forever, she was brought to an empty cell at the end of the line, and her wrists were freed. The boy that had accompanied her so far was literally thrown into the cell across from her. She heard a surprised grunt from the other side just as she too hit the stone floor, scraping the palms of her hands so that small dots surfaced on the broken and dirty skin.  
  
The door clanged shut, and she watched as the dim torchlight faded away down the hall.  
  
Once she was sure that the Men were gone, she scrambled to her knees next to the bars. She could just make out the prone form lying on the ground. He was lying still, and her Elven hearing revealed that he was breathing shallowly. Probably unconscious... she thought sadly.  
  
How she wished she could have spoken to him again! Especially now that she had so many questions for him. Like how did he know how to speak Elvish, where did he come from, and most importantly, who was he?  
  
She sighed and sat back next to the wall, her arms folded on top of her bent knees. She lowered her chin onto them and continued to ponder over the possibilities of her new friend's identity.  
  
Then there was a gruff, yet very familiar voice in the now-quiet darkness. "Melime? Melime, is that you?!" She sat up further and peered out of her cell. She heard a rustle, and scratching sounds coming from her new friend's cell. Was it possible?  
  
Her sharpened vision suddenly focused in on a face hovering above the boy's limp body. A face that looked remarkably older than she remembered, but with the same sparkling, beady eyes and fluffy mat of hair on the cheeks, and she could not contain her excitement.  
  
"Clulyan! You're alive!"  
  
"What? Did you think I needed an Elf to take care of me?" he scoffed playfully. Clulyan thought he saw her smile weakly, then she lowered her gaze to the boy at his knees. He too looked down then back up.  
  
"Friend of yours?"  
  
"Something like that... Is he okay?"  
  
Clulyan had a feeling that she knew very well that the boy lying in his cell was nowhere near being "okay," but he still bent lower to examine him.  
  
Melime also bent forward, watching intently as Clulyan gingerly turned the young Man onto his back. He prodded and pushed, looked and listened.  
  
"Well?" she asked, growing slightly impatient.  
  
"I'm no master of healing, but I would say most definitely not. At least from what I see, it does not look good." Clulyan saw her close her eyes. She settled against the wall, her chin resting on her knees.  
  
"We have to get out of here," she murmured. Looking toward Clulyan again, she repeated with more conviction, "We have to get out of here." Then, cocking her head so she was staring up at the ceiling, she muttered, "And I know just how we're going to do it."  
  
TBC...  
  
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
  
Okay, another shortie, but I just couldn't leave you all hanging any longer! You guys are really great, tolerating my tardiness on another chapter installment... I can't make any promises that I will be updating sooner, but I shall try. Gaylord, let's get on it! Hopefully my muses will return and we will be able to update the more comical works of Potter- bashing soon. Until then...............  
  
~Radiion-hobbitwarrior~ Bad Psychie! Updating she has not been. Yes, here is the box of tissues. But do not fret, it comes out happy... I hope. As for Psychie's-little-chracter-whom-she-gets-to-beat-mercilessly, I let you in on little secret, cause you're so nice and keep coming back. *cough, next heir to the throne of gondor, cough*  
  
~PrincessEvenstar~ Aww, how can I resist a review like that??? Well, maybe Psychie can let one more person in on the secret... Have you seen ROTK? Psychie's-little-chracter-whom-she-gets-to-beat-mercilessly is the second person that Arwen has her little space-out session about... (and he ain't Aragorn)  
  
~dragon emperess~ Hmm... Well this isn't exactly soon is it? *ducks the flying veggies* Please keep coming back though! I beg your forgiveness! Gaylord, fetch the basket o' good stuff! Give something lovely to dragon emperess! Good boy.  
  
~bry~ Thank you for getting my sorry butt back in gear. I read your review and realized that I couldn't remember the last time that I had been on fanfiction.net at all. Then I felt bad, so I hurried up and finished this chapter. So oopsies on Psychie's part if the last few paragraphs of this seemed really rushed...  
  
I love you all! Gaylord, do something nice for them now while Psychie goes to work on the other two stories!  
  
Until next time...  
  
~*PsychoPoet*~ 


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